


Nagisa Secretly Taped It

by schumie



Category: Free!
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:09:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2587661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schumie/pseuds/schumie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3...he can hear more than feel Haru’s fingers loosening the knot in his tie. </p><p>2....the tie is slipping from under his shirt collar with a soft hiss. </p><p>1….the fingers are back, working on the buttons now.</p><p>1....the top button is undone with a small puff of annoyance from Haru. If it’s possible to feel your cheeks burn in dreams, Makoto has mastered it.</p><p>Okay, again. 3....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nagisa Secretly Taped It

Makoto has seen a lot of things in Haru’s eyes, but this is the first time he’s ever seen something like this. It’s a bit like what he sees in Haru’s eyes when that first warm day comes after a particularly long winter and the color of the ocean lightens just a little bit. A look reserved for newly-filled swimming pools and hidden rivers along a mountain path.

Makoto realizes way too late that the look is a mixture of things, and would probably best be described as hunger.

Makoto finds himself having a hard time with any sort of fine-motor movements and, well, just breathing. Part of this is due to that new expression in Haru’s eyes, and part of it is due to the fact that Haru is pinning down his hands and straddling Makoto’s ribcage, his knees and thighs a little too… but it’s mostly the hungry eye thing that’s making Makoto useless.

Since Makoto is having trouble remembering to breathe anyway, he holds his breath and waits.

The look in Haru’s eyes flickers between want and annoyance. Why can’t you understand what I want to do next is practically stamped on Haru’s forehead. But the fact of the matter is, Makoto seems to know what Haru is thinking most of the time only because he has made a life study of Haru, every day since elementary school. He has seen how Haru reacts to almost every daily situation and is capable of understanding Haru’s small mannerisms that are invisible to others. Despite how it may seem to people watching, Makoto isn’t a mind reader, and this is not a circumstance he has had the opportunity to see Haru in before. 

He doesn’t know what Haru’s thinking, let alone what his own mind is thinking besides basic things like Haru’s heavier than he looks and his fingers are long but not very strong and his right knee is rubbing the tag on the inside of my shirt and it kinda itches and then this isn’t right.

Because it’s not real. He was napping before, he remembers. Any second now Ren and Ran will come cannon-balling onto him, skinny elbows and knees jabbing between his ribs and joints with dangerous precision, and the only balling Makoto will be doing is blue. Violently awoken on a Sunday morning, he will be left with a vague empty feeling and a huge dose of repression that he will have to endure until he can chase the kids away and lock himself in the bathroom.

It makes the look in Haru’s eyes a bit easier to handle, knowing it’s not real and he’ll be awake in 3...2...1…

Makoto can’t quite figure out why Haru’s hands have left his wrists but are still moving in front of him. They should be gone, but they’re slipping below his uniform collar now, so he (blushing) closes his eyes and counts again…

3...he can hear more than feel Haru’s fingers loosening the knot in his tie. 

2....the tie is slipping from under his collar with a soft hiss. 

1….the fingers are back, working on the buttons now.

1....the top button is undone with a small puff of annoyance from Haru. If it’s possible to feel your cheeks burn in dreams, Makoto has mastered it.

Okay, again. 3....

Makoto is having trouble counting. There is a number that comes next, and there’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he needs to remember what that number is, but then Haru’s fingers brush against the side of his neck and they’re cold.

“Haru, your hands are like ice! And they’re a bit clammy, are you getting sick,” is the first, very worried, sentence that comes out of Makoto’s mouth in this glorious, amazing dream that someone has somehow impossibly blessed him with. And the first thing he says is that Haru feels clammy? Habits die hard, and apparently dream Makoto is still first and foremost concerned for Haru’s health, even if that means dream Makoto doesn’t get a blowjob. Or wherever the dream was headed. Makoto quietly notes that suppressing himself, even in dreams, is probably a real problem.

But there’s a more immediate problem.

The expression in Haru’s eyes has changed from that alien one that Makoto has never seen to a familiar one of annoyance. His eyes say stop worrying and pay attention to more important things--so annoying. 

And that is what finally brings Makoto around. 

Not the fingers undressing him--he’s dreamed about that once or twice (maybe three times a week) this last year. And it’s not the look he doesn’t understand--sometimes he can’t understand Haru in his dreams even when he really wants to. What makes Makoto realize is the look of annoyance Haru is giving him.That is a major problem.That stop bothering me and let me concentrate look on Haru’s face makes Makoto realize this is not, to his equal amount of pleasure and distress--a dream. It’s not at dream at all.

Two things happen when he comes to that realization. The first is that he begins panicking, which Haru seems to have expected from the way he’s sighing. The second is that Makoto begins panicking harder and nearly pisses himself when Haru shifts on top of him, brushing against the base of Makoto's dick in the process.

How did they even get to this? They were both reading in Haru's living room, weren’t they? Haru, a cooking book of fish recipes, Makoto his English textbook. Makoto thinks they both fell asleep at some point...but this is definitely not a dream at all. And real Makoto just told Real Haruka that he is clammy and Haru’s clammy hands are going back to work on Makoto’s shirt and this is impossible and absurd and he just--is this real real or just real or--

3...2…

“Makoto.”

Makoto hadn’t realized he’d squeezed his eyes shut at some point. He flinches and opens them slowly. He immediately regrets it. Haru is looking down and away, completely stone-faced, but pursing his lips a little. His eyes are just a tiny bit bigger, and that is the closest look Haru ever gets to a puppy dog face.

“You don’t want to?”

Makoto is going to die.

Makoto has thought, probably a million times throughout his life, of the various ways he could tell Haru about his feelings. Whether it was better to hide it and live with it forever--he’d managed so far--or to chance it and risk ruining the close, simple trust between them. He didn’t think Haru would ever ignore or reject him, but he didn’t want to do anything that could possibly change how close they are. It had been easier when they were younger and it wasn’t weird to hold hands and be physically connected. At the time he knew he cared about Haru, but it was the way kids know they like cats or dogs and their mothers and fathers. It wasn’t until they were too old for hugging and holding hands in public that Makoto realized he burned to touch Haru. But Makoto knows Haru and how easily Haru ignores or runs away from complicated things. Haru is steady, but easily scared off. Things he thinks are annoying or too much emotional trouble (and what could be more complicated than his best friend, a male, admitting he was in love with and wanted to touch Haru in less-than-virginal ways) scare Haru away or make him pull back. Makoto knows this. So he’d been trying not to think about it.

 

But apparently Haru had thought about. And, right now, Haru is destroying a lifetime of angst and pent-up emotions as easily as unbuttoning a shirt.

 

Haru’s fingers have stopped moving and he’s looking directly at Makoto now. Face blank, eyes questioning.

“Haru--”

“You always think I’m delicate or fragile. I’m not.”

Makoto’s eyes widen and he’s fully blushing now, hairline to neckline and dry swallowing because Haru is, of course, correct.

“I-I know you’re not.”

“Then why are you always scared of hurting me?”

Makoto swallows and it feels scratchy and hard, like old rice in his throat.

Haru seems to take that as consent and works nimbly on the rest of Makoto’s shirt, Makoto watching in detached fascination. He is neither in the moment nor out of it and still not entirely convinced this is not some evil, torturous dream that he will have to live through the entire next day thinking about every time he glances at Haru.

“You look at me all the time.”

Haru, apparently is a mind-reader.

“Like…” Haru is untugging the bottom of Makoto’s shirt from his uniform pants.  
Makoto gulps and somehow manages to find his voice. It is scratchy and impossibly high when it does come out.

“...Like?” more of a squeak, really.

Haru’s eyes narrow just a little and he’s thinking, hands pushing open Makoto’s shirt now.

“Like you want to eat me,” Haru’s long fingers slide Makoto’s belt out of its clasp.

Makoto’s entire body must be red, he thinks.

“but you’re not sure if I’m cooked yet.”

oh, Makoto thinks, god.

“Haru, I--” Makoto is trying to shrug his open shirt back on because the only thing he wants more than to have Haru touch him is to not have Haru misunderstand.

“Was I wrong?”

“W-well, no, but that’s not what I think of you, Haru. I mean--”

 

Haru pulls back, straightens up, and leans back on his knees. His butt is resting dangerously low on Makoto’s body.

“So you don’t want to,” Haru states in a deadpan way that is obviously half-question and half-are you serious right now.

“Oh, god, I really do! I mean, I--well of course I do, it’s just I don’t want you to think that that’s--that that’s all want because I--you--to--”

“Makoto,” Haru’s eyes are narrowed and flashing with annoyance and probably a little amusement. Haru leans in again, hands sliding makoto’s shirt down until it’s stuck at his elbows, effectively exposing Makoto’s chest and restricting his movement in one go. Haru is nothing if not efficient.

Makoto squeaks.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Haru nods at Makoto.

And he does.

It’s not perfect and Haru’s lips aren’t as soft as Makoto thought they’d be--probably all the chlorine water in the swimming pool. Their teeth clash a little--Makoto’s fault at first because he’s too shocked to open his mouth properly for Haru--and Haru’s tongue is narrow and only darts around, licking the inside of Makoto’s mouth first like he’s testing water with his toes. But then Makoto stops thinking and lets himself just enjoy it. It’s probably even more of a mess when he does, but it feels good and he’s imagined. And he’s imagined it a lot. So many times that he nibbles at Haru’s top lip without even thinking. He’s pleasantly surprised when Haru sucks in a quick breath of air just like the Haru in his imagination had.

The tatami is rubbing on Makoto’s bare shoulders and he vaguely notes his surroundings for the first time. They are in the living room of Haru’s house (where they fell asleep) and the porch is definitely open, letting in the sun and a little breeze. It’s the back of the house--oh god, what if the neighbors suddenly decide to walk into Haru’s backyard bringing vegetables or something and they see-

One of Haru’s hands has left the tatami where it was propping him up over Makoto and is moving slowly, freely, over Makoto’s lower stomach. Fingers wide and firm. Haru’s fingers are cool, almost cold, and Makoto can feel his muscles twitch under them.

They shouldn't be doing this. Not yet, at least. Makoto hasn't even told Haru. He hasn't even said the most important thing.

“Ha...Haru…”

Makoto is a kind, gentle, great big brother, but he’s no saint and he can’t quite help it when he feels himself growing hard. Haru’s eyes shift to Makoto’s Issue for a second, then back down to Makoto’s stomach underneath him. He’s studying Makoto, fingers tracing the tiny valleys between Makoto’s ab muscles. Haru’s hands are getting warmer as they move, but Haru’s eyes on Makoto, examining him so closely, does more for Makoto than the fingers getting dangerously close to his pants. Makoto has never seen Haru look at him like this. And it’s a good thing too, because he’d never have been able to control himself. Makoto’s cock twitches, and he can feel some warm wetness on his boxers as his cock inches up.

He wants to apologize. He wants to explain. But more than anything, he doesn’t want Haru to stop.

“Haru...what should I--”

Makoto sucks in a deep breath, praying for patience and serenity as Haru’s hand slips under the waistband of Makoto’s pants and boxers and wraps quickly around his cock.

Haru’s not one to stand on ceremony, Makoto knows that. Haru's not one to beat around the bush or say things that are already understood. Haru believes in efficiency and eliminating the unnecessary.

Makoto knows that. Then it makes sense and Makoto’s giggling. Because this is all just so Haru.

Haru pauses, eyes shooting up to catch Makoto’s. Makoto clamps a hand over his mouth, immediately cutting off his own laughter. Haru’s expression is confused and maybe even a little worried (it’s Haru’s first time doing this kind of thing too, Makoto remembers) but after a few seconds of staring at Makoto, Haru’s expression turns into one of relief and annoyance. yYou should have noticed sooner, but there’s a bit of warmth in his eyes too. He squeezes Makoto’s cock, making Makoto gasp, and lowers his head back to business. Makoto thinks there may have been a hint of a sly smile under Haru’s bangs.

Like it’s nothing. 

Haru is always doing things like this. Taking things that Makoto is wavering, fretting, losing sleep over, and making them so simple. It's so frustrating and so relieving and Makoto is thankful.

Makoto soon hears an annoyed huff from Haru and finds Haru’s hands attempting to wiggle under Makoto's hips. Makoto raises them without thinking. He shouldn't be surprised when Haru pulls off his pants and boxers in a quick movement, careful to lift them up in the front so they don't hurt Makoto's erection. Whoever says Makoto is always the one taking care of Haru is wrong. Haru is often mindful of him.

Makoto breathes in a little when the precum on his head cools down as it's exposed to the air. He's ridiculously hard.

He's giggling again, he doesn't know why. His face feels like it will burn off. His eyes are scrunched so tight, his eyelashes are poking him. He doesn't realize he's biting his lower lip until he feels a cool thumb on it. His eyes open and Haru is leaning over his face again. Haru blinks at Makoto.

“Don't.”

And it's that easy. Makoto has calmed down. He still feels like he's going to spontaneously combust but he's stopped giggling and his jaw has stopped trembling. He didn't even realize jaws could tremble. He smiles a little.

“Thanks, Haru.”

The cool thumb leaves his lips and Makoto finds that he really wouldn't have minded if it had stayed there a bit longer. Haru says nothing and his face disappears from Makoto's sight again. Makoto, anxious, props himself up on his elbows just in time to feel and see Haru's tongue take a first lap at the head of his dick.

Makoto shrieks like a five-year-old girl.

Haru stops, tongue out, eyes widening then narrowing, looking for all the world like a cat over a bowl of milk. Not that Makoto would know, because both of his giant hands are covering his face, fingernails digging into his hairline and he's… no, he's not crying, but he's shaking ridiculously hard and it takes him a minute to differentiate between fear and raging horniness. His erection helps make the decision for him.

Oh, but Haru...Then Makoto panics even more, hands flinging away from his face, pushing him up to a sitting position, sending Haru sliding down Makoto's legs.

“I—Haru, I didn't mean it! I'm okay! Totally okay! It just—it felt...really good,” Makoto's sentence starts out flustered and loud and slowly teeters off in embarrassment and relief because Haru is looking at Makoto like he's an idiot.

“I wasn't worried,” Haru says from somewhere in Makoto's lap and Makoto attempts to help him up, but Haru gently swats his hand away. “I know you don't make that sound when you're hurt.”

“Oh...that's good.” That’s only incredibly embarrassing. 

“So lay back down,” Haru says, situating himself carefully between Makoto's legs, and Makoto finds himself blushing at the annoyance and impatience in Haru's voice.

“Haru, y-you don't have to do that! I'm totally fine, rea--”

“It's fine if you sit up too, I guess.”

The conversation is over and Haru's left hand is resting on that crease where Makoto's thighs end and hips start and his right hand is curling back around Makoto's cock, thumb running over the tip. Makoto should have no time to protest because he's too busy throwing his hands out behind him to stop himself from collapsing, but he still manages to find breath for it.

“Haru, you really don't need to,” but it comes out weak and a bit thick, not unlike the way Makoto sounds when he has a cold.

Haru shrugs in acknowledgment but chooses to ignore it and instead inspects Makoto's cock like he's appraising a swimming pool and lowers his head down again.

This time he dives in instead of testing the water, and manages to mouth half of Makoto. Makoto, to his credit, doesn't shriek again, but he makes a sound that's something between a wheeze and a whimper. Haru is a bit too overenthusiastic though and sputters a little. Makoto gasps when a few teeth make contact. But then Haru is pulling away and licking the frenulum, reassuring, until Makoto has completely forgotten about the momentary pain and is breathing like he does after swimming thirty laps.

Haru tests it again, this time little by little. He licks Makoto's slit (which brings out a new sound from Makoto, something like a whine), then circles the head with his tongue, letting his mouth sink lower and lower. Makoto, in his daze, wonders if he tastes gross and, oh god he hopes not... 

That train of thought is derailed when Haru seems to decide he can use his mouth and hand and starts steadily pumping Makoto down the length that he can't fit in his mouth. Makoto can't stop himself from letting out a low, rumbling moan so deep, he can hardly believe it came from himself. Even Haru pauses for a second and Makoto looks down to meet Haru's eyes. Makoto's dick, if possible, hardens even more when he sees that Haru's eyes are dark and swimming, pupils wide. For the first time, Makoto can see the obvious outline of Haru's penis under his pants.

“Makoto...” Haru says, moving his mouth off of Makoto. The word is deeper than usual and a little scratchy. Makoto itches to hear it again. Haru moves to sit back up on his knees, his hand never leaving Makoto's dick.

“Ha..Haru, that felt really good,” Makoto breathes heavily, and manages to get out a “thank you.”

“You didn't come yet,” and Makoto knows it's said in the way that implies that it is not a question and not a statement and the conversation isn't finished. Haru moves fluidly to stand up next to where Makoto is propped up, dropping his shirt next to Makoto.

He's seen it so many times, Makoto thinks nothing of Haru getting undressed. That is, until Haru's pants are off and there are boxers underneath (dark blue, with tiny green turtles), not one of Haru's nine pairs of swimming trunks. Boxers. And Haru's half-hard.

Makoto can feel his eyes widening. Then he comes back to himself and scrambles to sit upright.

“L-let me do that! I mean—please,” is out of Makoto's mouth before he can stop it.

Haru gives him a whatever look and Makoto thinks he can see a bit of amusement behind it.

Makoto blushes, finding himself on his knees in front of Haru. Makoto finds himself entranced by Haru's hips. He carefully brings a large hand up to rest on haru's left hip bone. Slowly, he rubs his thumb over it, fascinated by his own fingers on Haru's skin. How it’s pleasantly firm and it seems to shine a little around his fingers when he presses on it. He brings up his second hand to rest on the other hip and does the same thing there. Slowly he traces Haru's slight adonis belt downward and turns his hands so that his fingers slip just under the waistline of haru's boxers. He pulls them down slowly until he can see a hint of jet-black hair.

Makoto watches in wonder as Haru's cock twitches under the fabric. 

Makoto thinks Haru might chastise him for it later, but suddenly all Makoto can think about is making Haru feel good. Makoto's hands leave the waist of Haru's boxes and Makoto looks up into Haru's eyes. There's a question there. Makoto smiles warmly, letting his left hand slide around slowly to Haru's lower back, and then down Haru's ass cheek, pausing to squeeze lightly when it gets to that curve where Haru's ass ends and thighs start and Makoto watches Haru every second of it. Haru is shuddering when Makoto finally leaves his hand gripping the top back of Haru’s thigh. Then Makoto moves his right hand down and over to gently trace the outline of Haru's dick under the boxers.

Haru reaches out a stabilizing hand on Makoto's large shoulder. Makoto watches Haru's eyes like they're the window to another universe. They get darker, cloudier, when Makoto stops tracing and then they're shot-through with black for the briefest instant when Makoto's fingers splay out and he begins palming Haru's dick. He rubs slowly, carefully, testing. When Haru begins to lean into his hand, he increases the pressure.

Haru shudders and reaches out his other hand so that he's leaning on Makoto's shoulders, head hanging down, hair obscuring his eyes. Makoto discovers he doesn't like that. He doesn’t like not being able to see Haru’s eyes. He rubs Haru with his warm palm a bit more, then, hoping it won't be too cold for Haru, slowly leans in to tongue Haru's cock through the boxers. Haru throws his head back, gripping Makoto's shoulders, and Makoto can see Haru's eyes again.

They're stormy, dark grey-blue, not clear and blue like normal, not shimmering like the do when Haru is happy. It’s a burning grey-blue. Makoto has never seen them this color.

Carefully, using the full width of his tongue to stroke Haru through the fabric, Makoto works the left side of Haru's boxers down, then slides the hand that was at haru's thigh slowly up so he can work the other side down too.

Makoto is careful, maybe too careful and slow, because Haru grips his shoulders tighter. As soon as the boxers are cleared, Haru's cock springs free and Makoto takes an adoring glance. Haru's cock is thinner than Makoto's, but long and elegant like Haru's fingers. It curves up beautifully and Makoto has to shake himself out of the thought in order to lean in and lick at the head.

He holds Haru's hips with his hands and, because he doesn't quite know what he's doing, copies what Haru had done to him before, what made Makoto feel good.

Haru doesn't moan or scream, but he does gasp when Makoto tongues his slit, so Makoto does that some more. Haru's breathing turns heavy as Makoto works away at the head of his cock, finally remembering to add his hands. His hands are too big though, and really only get in the way, so Makoto takes a breath, wraps his lips over his teeth (he experienced how bad that could be before) and slowly slides Haru's cock into his mouth.

It's not as easy as it seems, Makoto thinks when he has to hold back a choke. He opts for not taking all of Haru in because he's scared of gagging and biting Haru. Instead, he bobs his head back and forward, taking in more each time, taking a short break to lick the slit every so often.

“Makoto,” Haru rasps and his fingers are digging into Makoto's shoulders but also pulling up.

“Mmm?” Makoto says around Haru's cock and it jumps in Makoto's mouth. Haru lets out a gasp. He's hard and curved in Makoto's mouth. Almost as hard as Makoto.

Haru takes a breath and lets go of Makoto's shoulders. Makoto pulls away, wondering if he's done something wrong.

“Knees,” Haru says, looking directly into Makoto's eyes.

Makoto can feel his lips part and eyes widen.

“Makoto,” it's a question now.

“Yeah,” Makoto breathes out heavily.

It would be a flat-out lie if Makoto said he'd never imagined having sex with Haru, but he hadn't quite imagined it would be like this. No, that's not right. They've been having sex. Blowjobs and palming is sex. He can do this. Makoto had imagined intercourse with Haru many times, but he'd always assumed he'd be the one on top, and the idea of giving Haru pleasure from that end had always turned him on.

Now that it's come to it, though, he finds he's not only relieved that he won't have to worry about hurting Haru or doing it wrong, the idea of him being underneath Haru, of Haru thrusting into him, nearly makes him blow his load right there. He has to hold back a whine he can feel rising in his throat as he moves to rest on his hands and knees.

Somehow, during this, Haru has disappeared, leaving Makoto shuddering and naked on his knees in the living room. Makoto begins to panic.

“Haru...?”

“I'm here,” Haru says, coming back out of the hallway. In his hands he is carrying two towels and a small bottle of lube. Makoto eyes it nervously.

“Here,” Haru puts one towel out on the Tatami and folds up the other one. “for your knees,” he explains. “Move onto the towel.”

Makoto decides it's do or die time right then. He gets up to his feet to move and stops in front of Haru, looking down at him. They're both stark naked and it's starting to get a bit cold. Makoto puts one of his warm hands slowly around Haru, testing, and Haru lets him, so he reaches the other up to Haru's cheek.

Makoto kisses Haru gently at first, with lips closed, and it's awkward. It's not natural to kiss Haru that way. Haru seems to agree, because he parts his lips and lets Makoto try again. Makoto is shaking, a ball of nerves, and he accidentally bumps his mouth against Haru's too hard, but then Haru makes a small sound of annoyance, reaches up, and licks Makoto's lips, forcing his tongue between Makoto’s lips. It darts around like a lost fish inside Makoto's mouth and it feels a little strange, but then Haru's tongue is running against the top of his mouth and it sends shivers down his neck.

Makoto kisses Haru back, and Haru makes room for Makoto's tongue.

Haru's lips are dryer than Makoto expected, probably from being in chlorine water every day, but they're warm and kissing him is so easy, if a bit messy.

Makoto gets a bit too absorbed and they both forget to breathe. They end up pulling away from each other in gasps.

“Haru, I...” Makoto struggles for breath,

“Me too,” Haru replies.

Makoto feels the grin spreading on his face. Then, sheepishly, he says, “I...I don't really know how this works.”

“I know the basics,” Haru nods in the general direction of the lube.

“Y-you do?”

“I researched.”

“Y-you did?”

“Nagisa helped a bit.”

“He what?!”

“It would be better if we did it on my bed but it might not be big enough,” Haru says thoughtfully.

“T-that's okay! Here’s okay,” Makoto squeaks.

Haru examines him. “You're scared.”

“W-well, yes. But I mean, that's normal right?”

Haru nods, “I think so,” and leans up to kiss Makoto again, letting Makoto wraps his arms around him.

“You're so nice, Haru. So cool,” Makoto sighs into Haru's neck.

“Mn,” Haru replies, letting Makoto hold him.

After a few moments, Makoto's heart stops skipping beats and he knows he's calming down. Then he realizes the situation they're in, and his skin starts to tingle in all the spots that it's touching Haru's. Which is pretty much everywhere, since Makoto is holding Haru so tight.

Makoto can feel his dick pressed against Haru's stomach. It rubs a little when Haru breathes. Haru seems to have noticed the same thing because he takes a tiny step closer to Makoto, resting his head against Makoto’s shoulder and effectively pinning Makoto’s dick between them.

Makoto is gulping for air again. It must be impossible, he thinks, to nearly hyperventilate this many times in five minutes. He can smell Haru's hair and feel it brush against him. It's a bit dry, like Haru's lips, but it smells fresh and clean. Like shampoo and the pool. Makoto can feel Haru's breath ghosting down his chest and it makes him feel heavy and thick, like his body is too big for him.

It takes the feeling of Haru's cock hardening against his thigh to distract him. But it does a really good job of it. Makoto backs away a little and reaches down, and around his own stiff cock, to touch Haru. Haru moves and the top of his cock touches the base of Makoto's. They both shudder together.

“Makoto.”

“Yeah.”

Makoto breaks away from Haru with a deep breath. He has to work up the courage to not be touching Haru. He moves to kneel on the floor but freezes when he feels a long, thin finger trace the length of his spine. When it leaves, Makoto shakes himself to move, positioning himself on his hands and knees and trying not to shake.

Haru doesn't say anything and Makoto doesn't expect him to, but Makoto really is nervous. He seems to be radiating cold heat. Seat is starting to break out all over him. He can't see Haru and it's making him nervous.

“Do you want to do it on your back instead? I read this position is best for the first time.”

Ah. Of course. Haru wouldn't have him being all nerves for no reason.

“No, it's fine. Thank you for thinking about that. Haru is always concerned about me-eeeeee!”

Haru's hands are sliding down makoto's back. Makoto's trapezius and latissimus muscles contract under Haru's hands. Haru seems to like it when they move. Haru is touching him all over, in different ways, whispering the muscles' names, measuring the way they tense and release with his fingertips like he’s mapping and memorizing. His fingers aren't cool anymore. They seem to be burning paths down and across Makoto. Makoto wonders if Haru is drawing Makoto’s back in his mind. The idea makes Makoto's dick twitch.

Haru's fingers tickle a little and Makoto tries not to laugh because laughing would probably break him. He feels like a piece of plastic--like Haru could snap him. He never imagined Haru would be touching him this way, that he would be the recipient of so much attention. Yes, Haru was always doing little things for him that other people didn't see or understand, but Makoto, in his dreams, had never imagined this kind of attention. He's strung so tight, dick so hard, he doesn't know how long he can stay sane under Haru's hands.

He doesn't have to worry about it for too long, though. One hand drags down Makoto's back, making Makoto arch his down reflexively. Then Haru’s hands are gone and Makoto possibly shivers even harder when they're not on him.

Then one hand is back, pushing against Makoto's left thigh, nudging him to spread his legs more. Makoto concedes and widens his legs on the towel.

Haru's hand travels back up, barely grazing against Makoto's scrotum. Makoto can feel the light touch in his entire lower stomach. But it’s nothing compared to how his entire body tenses when something soft and wet runs up the back of his balls and perineal. And is that...oh no, that's definitely a tongue. Haru is licking him from behind and if Makoto weren't already dying, he'd die from embarrassment right now if he weren't utterly distracted by the long, warm tongue working it's way up from under the base of his dick, over his balls, and across his perineal and oh no oh god over his ass. 

It's wet and messy and the noises by themselves is enough to drive Makoto crazy. Makoto wonders exactly what kind of research Haru did because Makoto definitely never got that far and is it physically possible to be harder than his dick is right now? He doesn't think so.

Sure, the feelings and sounds are enough to drive him over the edge, but when he thinks about it being Haru to do that to him, the Haru-chan he pulls out of the bathtub every day, the Haru he swims with every day after school, the Haruka he's known since childhood, all eyes and legs and beautiful long fingers, well. 

Makoto moans. It starts out high and ends impossibly low. He can feel Haru's bangs brush over his ass, following after the tongue. He wants nothing more than to turn around and see Haru's eyes.

But Haru's left hand has moved back to Makoto's hip and is gripping it firmly, holding him in place. Supporting him.

“Breathe, Makoto,” Haru tells him. So Makoto breathes.

Then Haru's right hand returns and Makoto recites every sutra he knows and apologizes to his mother because Haru's fingers are wet and one of them is slowly working into his entrance.

Every single nerve, every millimeter of Makoto seems to be focused on his own asshole at that moment.

Haru's fingers are slender and straight, so it doesn't take to long for Haru to work one in. It feels unnatural. It feels like he's being filled somewhere that he never knew was empty. It doesn't particularly hurt but it's definitely not comfortable either. Haru's fingers feel cool, but that might just be because Makoto is literally burning from the inside.

“Makoto,” Haru has to say it twice. “Makoto,” there is so much in Haru's voice. Mostly concern, but also curiosity and that strange, beautiful hunger again.

“I...I'm okay. Try another one?”

“Okay.”

Makoto can actually hear the lube being opened this time. Haru's fingers return and they're cooler and wetter.

Haru works his middle finger in this time. It's only slightly bigger, but it's longer. Makoto breathes heavily as Haru slowly pushes it in. When it's mostly in, Haru rearranges the hand gripping Makoto’s ass, spreading the cheeks as far as he can. Then he begins to work in the index finger again, and two fingers is a lot different than one.

Makoto hisses a little bit and Haru stops. Makoto suddenly feels soft, wet lips at the base of his back. He nearly melts. Haru pushes the finger in more, licking and kissing Makoto's back slowly as he goes. Instead of the fingers easing their way in, Makoto focuses on the rough brush of lips and the smooth, wet train of tongue.

And then they're all the way in. Makoto doesn't know when he started wheezing. He tries to control his breathing. If he doesn't tense up, he can handle it. It's not comfortable, not at all, but as long as he doesn't tense up, he can do it. 

He has part of Haru in him. That thought makes it a bit better.

“Breathe,” Haru tells him again.

Haru's fingers start moving slowly, shifting, curling inside him. Haru's middle finger is longer and Makoto can feel deeper inside himself. It's painful and he digs his fingernails into the hands he's holding himself up on. He feels like he's being scratched inside. He's about to tell Haru to stop when the fingers go deep and curve just enough, just right. Makoto digs his blunt fingernails because he’s seeing white. He moan-yells something, he's not even sure what.

Haru touches the spot again and Makoto is ready to sob from a strange frustration he's never felt before.

He can feel the fingers pull out just slightly and he whimpers.

He can feel the tip of another finger at his entrance. He doesn't think he can take it, but the two fingers are back in, putting pressure on that amazing, horrible spot and he's distracted enough for Haru to edge the tip of a third finger through Makoto's rim.

Makoto is whimpering and moaning at the same time. Haru stops to let Makoto get used to it and to judge whether Makoto is okay or not, Makoto knows that, but for the first time ever he wants to yell at Haru. Yell at him for stopping and for going and for not going.

“Makoto. It's okay, Makoto,” Haru's voice is even but Makoto can hear the concern in it. It just makes everything worse.

“Haru...”

“Do you want to stop?”

“Mn, n-no. If you… That spot. Touch that spot again.”

“Okay. I'm going to take my fingers out,” Haru says like he's going to go to the grocery store. He's being even and solid, being the usual Haru, because it makes Makoto comfortable. Haru is trying to reassure him.

'O-okay.”

He let's out a keening noise and slaps a hand over his mouth as Haru pulls out his fingers.

Haru isn't touching him anymore. It feels like five years have passed when Haru's skin touches his again. This time, his hands are gripping either side of Makoto's ass and Makoto can feel Haru's knees knock against the inside of his. Haru's hands squeeze, spread.

And then Haru's dick is hot against his rim and Makoto can literally feel Haru's hands telling him to relax. Makoto takes a deep breath in and Haru is pushing inside, slowly, stretching him.

A thousand hot, swelling years later, Makoto can feel Haru's pelvis against his ass and Haru is completely inside him. Haru stops there and lets go of Makoto's ass. His hands awkwardly rub up Makoto's back and down the backs of Makoto's arms.

“Y-you can move,” Makoto finally shutters out.

He can feel Haru agree and then there's a suction inside him and Haru's pulling out slowly. Haru's dick leaving him hurts more than it entering, and Makoto thinks that must be odd. He pants harshly, but then Haru is moving inside him again and there's relief of a maddening sort. Haru waits a second, then pulls out again, and slowly pushes in, deep, and Makoto arches his back reflexively, letting out a low moan. Something about the position works and when Haru is all the way in, he hits that magic spot. Makoto whimpers. Haru pulls out, and pushes in again, faster and a bit harder this time and Makoto's whole body shivers.

He can hear Haru breathing slowly and far more deeply than normal. He feels a drop of sweat hit him and his nerves trace it as it rolls down his lower back and down his asscrack where it mixes with the lube the next time Haru pushes inside.

Makoto is sure his mind is overloaded. He can't possibly take any more, he's ready to melt in a puddle of over-stimulation. He thinks he might start sobbing any moment. Obviously Makoto doesn't know his own limits.

Because somehow, through all of this, they've managed to neglect nipples and Haru seems to suddenly remember them at that moment. It's a bit awkward because of the size difference of their torsos, but Haru half-way lays against Makoto's back and his hand runs over Makoto's side to his chest underneath. He drags it down Makoto's stomach slowly, and Makoto's stomach muscles and ass tense up the closer Haru's hand gets to Makoto's cock. Haru leaves it dangerously close and takes the opportunity to pull out and thrust in Makoto, hard, before moving his hand back up Makoto's stomach and to his chest, where he unceremoniously squeezes Makoto's nipple between his long fingers. 

Makoto is completely fried. He can feel himself tighten around Haru. Haru let's out a shaky, low breath, almost a hiss.

In order to protect his body from overload, Makoto's mind begins to focus on ridiculous things like the towel (it's an old one that Haru used to take to swim club) and there's a small stain on the tatami in the corner of the room and He's suddenly regretting that he didn't shave his entire body. How does Haru feel about leg hair? How is Haru feeling right now? Is Makoto good enough? What if he's hurting Haru? What if--

“Makoto, stop thinking.”

Makoto shudders in response. Haru pulls out and drives into him, the hardest yet, and Makoto literally screams something that sounds only vaguely like Haru's name.

Haru runs his hands left hand down Makoto's side, his right hand is pinching Makoto's nipple, and then his left hand moves under Makoto's side and Makoto knows what's coming, but he isn't prepared. How could he be prepared?  
Haru is stroking, pumping Makoto’s dick, while thrusting into him from behind. The faster he goes, the less he hits the magic spot, but the more he strokes Makoto's dick. Makoto can feel Haru's hair on his back, his hands on his dick, his dick in his ass. He rocks forward with the power of Haru’s thrusts. Everything is movement and stuttering, catching breathes and sweat everywhere.

Haru straightens up, his hand uncurling from Makoto's dick and releasing his nipple. Haru pulls out all the way, waits for a brief moment, and thrusts in deep, his balls hitting against Makoto's underside, his dick curving inside just right to hit Makoto's prostrate and they're both shaking, Makoto's ass tightening, constricting around Haru. Haru manages to pull out and thrust in one more time. Makoto goes blind, an explosion in his lower stomach, and the weird, hot sensation of being filled from inside as he releases all over the towel below him.

Makoto collapses, his knees and arms giving out, and Haru falls with him.

They lay in silence for a while, Haru on Makoto's large back, rising and falling off beat with Makoto's heavy breathes.

When he's caught his breath enough to, Haru carefully moves off of Makoto, rolling out next to him on the floor. They stay that way for a while, letting the sweat on them cool. Makoto can feel some pooling in the dip of his lower back.

When he has enough energy, he turns his head to look at Haru, surprised to find Haru already looking at him.

Makoto can't help it. He smiles. Haru is a mess. Haru's bangs are plastered to his head, his eternally pale face is slightly flushed still, and he's taking slow, deep breathes. His eyes are still slightly clouded and tired, but also full of something like wonder. Makoto has never seen Haru so undone, and it makespride swell in him to know he was the one who caused it.

“Haru...” Makoto says quietly, slowly. He feels his eyes drooping. He’s never felt such a warm exhaustion.

“Makoto,” Haru replies, staring directly into Makoto's eyes, making Makoto blush even in his weariness. His eyes are back to a clear, blue-green, demanding attention, and they're shimmering. A suggestion, not a question.

“Again,” Haru says.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time writing sex (sorry), but definitely not my last.


End file.
